


Vessel

by AudreyHorneFeelsDreamy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyHorneFeelsDreamy/pseuds/AudreyHorneFeelsDreamy
Summary: When Jimmy Novak meets Dean Winchester, he's at a complicated point in his life, and being plunged into the world of the supernatural only makes it harder for him to work out whats real and what isn't.What he doesn't realize is that his life is about to be set on a path he could never have imagined.





	

**1996 (1)**

Jimmy wasn't catholic.

He did however, like the local church, with its vaulted ceilings and frescoes, it's high stained glass windows that caught the light just right at certain times of day, although, it was night now, so the coloured glass simply looked dull.

Long rows of candles illuminated the pulpit area, their flames flickering softly in one of the many drafts the old building puffed out, like an old man huffing and blowing out his cheeks, they made the shadows dance across the walls, and it reminded him of a shadow puppet act he'd seen at a fair when he was a boy, and even though he was Twenty three, he still found himself looking for the story in the movement.

The sound of the door being opened at the far end of the church made him glance back, and he wondered, guiltily, if it was someone coming to tell him he had to leave now, that it was late and they wanted to lock the church up. He had no idea if they _did_ lock up the church at night, he'd never been here this late before, but he prepared himself to apologize and gather his things.

Fast heavy footsteps rang out against the stone floor, and the kid jogged past him before he could even acknowledge he was there. Tall and angular, a slightly too large leather jacket resting on top of shoulders he'd yet to fill out properly, Jimmy watched this boy move through the candles and up to the pulpit, pulling a flask from his pocket as he did, and to Jimmy's surprise, he plunged it into the water and started to fill it up.

"Hey!.... Um... Excuse me..." He stood up, and the startled look on the boys face proved he hadn't noticed Jimmy when he came in. "I don't think you can do that." He said softly, indicating to the pulpit the boys hands were currently plunged in.

"Pretty sure I just did." He smiled, lifting the flask and sloshing it back and forth before screwing the lid on and trotting back down the few steps to the aisle, wiping his wet hands down the back of his jeans.

"Son... You can't just..."

" _Son_? What are you? My dad? like... fifty?" He laughed, moving past Jimmy towards the door.

For reasons he wasn't clear on, Jimmy followed him. If he was honest he was a little angry that this young man had invaded his peace, seemingly violating church property, and although he wasn't a _piece of my mind_ kind of guy, he kind of thought that maybe he should be, so he went outside after him, spying him ducking round the corner towards the grave yard.

It was dark around the back of the church, and Jimmy tripped and stumbled with a curse as he pushed his way through to an unkempt part of the church grounds, and it was with a final push through some brash, that he saw a light, and headed towards it. 

As he got closer he saw that it was a flashlight balanced on top of a grave stone, and with horror, he realized that the kid was climbing out of an open grave, pulling the flask out of his pocket and tipping the contents into it.

"What are you doing?" He barked angrily, watching as the boy jerked his head up, suddenly fearful, and to Jimmys horror, he picked up a length of pipe and ran at him, holding it up and back over his shoulder like a bat.

Oh my god he'd going to kill me! He thought, and as he swung the pipe around, Jimmy ducked, putting his hands over his head and waited for a blow that never came.  
Instead, there was an unearthly screech behind him, almost next to his ear, making all the hairs on his body stand up in fright.

"C'mon! Gotta finish this." The boy growled, grabbing Jimmys arm and hauling him up, puling him towards the grave.

He recoiled when he saw the open grave, the desiccated remains of its occupant laid bare within its smashed coffin, withered arms crossed at the wrists on its sunken chest, his face leathery and grinning.

"What are you doing?" He whispered fearfully, then looked across at him with wide eyes. "Are you a Satanist?"

He snorted loud, shaking his head as he pulled a box of salt from his pack and tipped the whole thing into the grave, following it with half a small can of lighter fluid.

"No such thing as Satan." He huffed, and as he struck his matches, the apparition appeared before them, rising up tall and threatening, its mouth twisted into a snarl that made Jimmy step back in fear, even as the boy stood his ground, and when he tossed the matches into the grave, it shrieked loud, ethereal fire consuming it as it writhed and tried to escape, until there was nothing but the faint echo in his head of the screams, and the smell of burning earth in his nostrils.

For the longest time he said nothing, trying to get his head around what he'd just seen, and it was only when the boy started to pack up his things, that Jimmy finally found his voice.

"What was that?"

"That.. Was George Packard... Dead but not departed, and responsible for three suicides this last month.."

When Jimmy just stared at him, he shrugged, chuckling softly.

"Think of me like... Rent-a-kill... Only, my rats need a little holy water from time to time."

When Jimmy said nothing more, he slapped him lightly on the shoulder, smiling a little as he did.

"C'mon... You owe me a drink for saving your ass."

* * *

 

Jimmy wasn't a drinker, but he ordered two shots when they got to the bar, and downed them both before getting a beer to take to their table.

His eyes narrowed when he noticed the boys ID as he put it back in his wallet, and when they were both sat down, he looked over at him properly.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty three." He smiled, taking a pull on his beer and settling back with a sigh

"No you're not."

"Fine... twenty one."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged, seemingly un-phased at this line of questioning, so Jimmy gave up, then leaned forwards, holding out his hand.

"I'm Jimmy."

"Oh... yeah, shit.. Dean." He smiled wide, shaking Jimmys hand firmly before sitting back again.

* * *

"Praying?"

"Yes."

"You were praying?"

"Well.... I was in a church. Don't people generally pray when in churches?"

"I don't."

"I think that's obvious."

"Whats that supposed to mean?"

Dean scowled a little.

He was on his fourth beer, and Jimmy was matching him with two shot already under his belt.

Shrugging a little Jimmy took another pull on his beer and came up empty, shaking his head when Dean gestured towards it to see if he wanted another.

"I suppose.. I just mean that you don't seem... Christian."

"Huh.." Dean nodded, half smiling as he matched Jimmy's shrug. "Well, can't argue with that I suppose. But no, you're right, I'm not. The whole God thing is... Frankly ridiculous."

"You don't believe in God."

"Oh I believe in Gods, just not GOD."

"But what about what happened tonight? In the graveyard."

"What about it? Look man, ghosts and vamps and slimy gross shit that goes bump in the night, that's just stuff, it's not a sign that there's a god... If anything, its a sign there _isn't_ one."

Jimmy frowned a little, not liking how rational it sounded, how reasonable.

His faith wasn't rocked though, how could it be when he could still hear them whispering softly in the back of his head, the voices that never went away.

* * *

 

 

"What were you praying for anyway?" He asked, unabashed at the directness of his question.

"Clarity."

"About what?"

Jimmy sighed softy, then puffed out his cheeks before nodding a little.

"My marriage."

"You're married?"

He nodded again. "Two years, but... We've hit a, well, not so much a rocky patch, but an impasse maybe."

"You cheat on her?"

"No!"

"She cheat on you?"

"What? No, no, Amelia would never cheat on me... She just." He paused. "She thinks I have too much faith."

"The god stuff?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Yes, the god stuff."

"So... why you sitting in a church praying? Go home and talk to her."

"I can't. She left... She's staying with her parents." He said softly, glancing down at his bottle and swirling the last drop around the bottom before tipping it back against his tongue, waiting for it to land on it, disappointingly light.

"I think it's over."

"I'm sorry man... Truly, that sucks." Deans tone was sincere, and Jimmy felt a tightness in his chest he'd been able to ignore up until now.

In a world where even his priest was telling him to calm it down, it felt nice to have someone tell him they were sorry for him.

"Yes.. Well, maybe it's for the best."

"Maybe, maybe."

Dean yawned, stretching a little in his seat.

He hadn't slept in nearly two days, and if he was honest, the beers had finished him off.

"I gotta get a cab and go crash at my motel... Wanna share it?"

Jimmy nodded.

He'd drunk too much to drive himself home. Maybe he'd book himself into the motel as well. He wasn't sure he could sleep in his empty bed again tonight.

* * *

 

"Honestly, don't sweat it. The rooms paid for and I got it all to myself for the next two weeks. No point you trying to find another cab now just cus there's no rooms left."

Dean tossed his jacket on his bed as he let them both into the room, and indicated towards the other bed, still made up, unslept in.

"Dad and Sam are clear cross country, he just dropped me off to clean up this job while he follows a big lead so, make yourself at home."

Jimmy took his jacket off and lay it neatly over the back of the chair, still not sure what he was doing here but he was a little drunk, a little sad, and still too shell shocked from the apparition in the graveyard to be truly comfortable with being alone just yet.

"You want another drink?" Dean asked, waving a half empty bottle of scotch in his direction, shrugging and taking a quick pull on it with a grunt and gasp when Jimmy shook his head.

"I should sleep..."

"Oh. Yeah, sure... " Dean smiled at him, putting the bottle down, then dropped his pants, kicking them away before dragging his shirt over his head.

Jimmy looked away politely.

From the little he'd told him about his life on the road with his father and brother, there was little call for privacy between them in such close quarters, and he supposed it wasn't natural for him to be bashful.

He heard the bed creak a little behind him and glanced over to see Dean settling under the covers, so he moved over to the nightstand between the two beds, and flicked off the light. 

There was only a faint glow from the gas stations lights across the street, bathing the room in a soft blue tone, but it was dark enough that Jimmy felt comfortable undressing down to his undershirt and shorts, his clothes put neatly on top if his jacket before slipping into bed.

"Goodnight." He said softly, only met with a mumbled grunt from Dean, then a soft snore.

Jimmy wasn't so tired yet though, not now he was here, and he crooked his arms up behind his head and thought about what Amelia had said to him.

She wanted him to get help.

That's what she thought he needed. Psychiatric help. Even the priest had agreed.

The voices soothed him though, why didn't they understand that? 

He knew they weren't in his head, how could they be when they were simply everywhere.

 _They're not angels!_ She'd yelled at him tearfully. _You're ill! Jimmy, you're sick, you need help!_

How could he need help though, when the angels told him constantly that his faith was pure, that his life was important, that he was chosen for something. It was his birthright. 

He wondered, not for the first time, if it had all been a huge mistake, getting married, and so young. Everyone had told them they were too young, but it had seemed natural, the right thing to do. Only now he was trying to do the right thing again, and no one agreed with him. Even utterly devout friends looked at him like he was one step away from a trip to a rubber room.

With a sigh he lay on his side, closing his eyes against the weak light from outside, and tried his best to get to sleep.

* * *

He woke with that primeval feeling you get when  you instinctively know you're being watched, and on opening his eyes, started a little when he saw Dean stood next to the bed, looking down at him. 

 _Well, this is it. What kind of guy sleeps in a motel room with someone they met in a graveyard? Guys that get murdered, that's who_. he thought.

He watched Dean in the gloom, only just able to make out his features, muted in the blue light, picking out the angles and curves of his body, like starlight reflected in a black top puddle, so that all he seemed to be able to do was look up at him.

"You awake?" Dean said at last, as if suddenly realizing Jimmy was, indeed, awake.

"Yes."

He sat down on the bed as Jimmy sat up a little, frowning softly.

"You ever hit anyone?" He said softly, relaxing his shoulders when Jimmy shook his head, and before he could say anymore, Dean leaned forwards and pressed his mouth to Jimmys, soft, quick and almost shy, the faint ghost of scotch on his lips from earlier.

He just sat there, too dumbstruck to say anything, then swallowed hard.

"Dean... I'm not... " He frowned again, then simply said. "I'm married."

"She left you."

"Yes, but..."

"Aren't you lonely?"

The boys voice was almost a whine.

"Cus I'm lonely, I'm always fucking lonely..."

Jimmy wasn't sure what to say to that, but when Dean leaned in to kiss him again, he didn't stop him, and the reason he didn't was because _they_ told him it was alright.

They whispered in his ear that it was alright for him to seek comfort, to forget everything for a little while. They told him there was _a plan_.

There was always a plan, and he had to have faith that they'd steer him true, they always had.

Amelia was part of the plan.

But so was Dean, and with every press of his lips, Jimmy found himself pushing harder into his kiss, until his hands finally moved up around the back of Deans head, pulling him down with him gently.

They were both a little drunk, Jimmy could feel the slightly off kilter way everything seemed around him, but he wasn't truly sure that it was only the drink, and maybe had more to do with the hot, heavy way Dean was moving over him.

The angels moved back though, and watched the next stage of the plan unfold.

 

 

 


End file.
